


The mouth and the mute

by Coinkydinks



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Mute Peter Parker, Superfamily, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Wade, Tony is a bit of a dick, someone get peter therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-06 09:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18385958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coinkydinks/pseuds/Coinkydinks
Summary: Writing Prompt: After a severe head injury as a child, you grew up without the ability to speak. One day, whilst waiting in line at the supermarket, you crack a particularly excellent joke in your head, and the person behind you in line can’t stop laughing.





	1. Can I speak to your manager?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know ASL,” the man behind the cashier desk said, mouthing each word slowly, and a little bit too loudly for comfort. 

 

Peter frowned, it wasn’t the first time this has happened. He had came equipped for situations like this. He removed a notebook from the back of his pocket and quickly wrote down what he wanted: “I’m a mute. Can you tell me where the microwavable meals are? They’ve been moved since last week.” normally, this would work, Peter would say thank you, say sorry for the trouble and move on with his day, however, the cashier seemed to have other ideas. He looked at the notebook, then back at Peter. 

 

“You don’t _ look  _ like a mute.” 

 

_ And you don’t look stupid either, but it looks like we’re both wrong. _

 

The man behind Peter snorted, and he felt his cheeks flush. He scowled at the man. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds, the man was taller than he was, Peter had to crane his neck back to look him in the eyes - and even then, he had to remind himself that straightening on his tiptoes would be the opposite of intimidating. He was dressed in a red, tailored suit, that was hidden beneath an oversized hoodie - a shame, really, to hide such a build - his face was masked, a pair of white slits looked down at him, bemused. 

 

_ Enjoying the show, asshole? _

 

The corners of his mask raised, “yes.” Peter stared at the man, and the man stared back - there was a brief, blissful moment of ignorance before the man realised his mistake. The man’s face went from amused to absolute horror. “No - I didn’t mean - I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing-” but before the man could finish, Peter had turned his back to him. He underlined the words in his notebook and showed it to the cashier. The cashier took this as an opportunity to tell Peter what exactly happens when someone “fakes an illness.” Peter mentally sighed. All he wanted was a microwave meal, and instead, got a 10-minute lecture on how it was people like him that wasted taxpayer's money. He wished it came with a  receipt. The man behind him slammed down his hand on the cashier’s belt. A long stretch of silence fell between them, as the man stared down the cashier with a look of barely contained fury.

 

“Where are the microwavable meals?” the cashier shakingly points at the far end of the shop. 

 

“O-over there.”

 

“Well then, you best go over there and  _ get them. _ ” The man looked down at the cashier’s name tag, “Derren… “

 

Derren swallowed. “Yeah - yeah I’ll go do that.”

 

The man nodded, leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest, as he watched Derren almost fall over the chair’s wheel, look back, flushed and tried to make it appear as if it wasn’t an accident, before running to the opposite end of the shop.

 

_ So… You can read my thoughts? _

 

It didn’t surprise him, living with a family of superheroes will do that to you; the extraordinary becomes ordinary.

 

The man nodded.

 

_ Well, don’t go silent on me now. _

 

“Oh - sorry, wow. I'm not used to people telling me to talk, usually, it’s the other way around. Listen, about before, I wasn’t laughing at you - it's just when you said - shit when you thought - about him not being as stupid as you thought he was,   couldn’t help myself! That was gold. I didn’t expect that coming from someone like you.”

 

_ Someone like me? _

 

“Yeah, you know…” his hands gestured vaguely in his direction. 

 

Peter frowned.  _ What does _ \- he mimicked the same gesture in his direction -  _ mean? _

 

“Cute.” 

 

Peter felt his cheeks go hot.

 

Just then, Derren returned with a handful of microwavable meals. “I, er didn’t know which one you wanted so I got one of everything…” his face was as red as Peter’s felt. 

 

_...Would it be mean of me to ask him to go back and bring me a pizza? _

 

“Oh, that’s cold Bambi...  _ do it _ .” 

 

* * *

 

 

For the third time, Peter rearranged his shopping inside of his backpack. There wasn’t anything wrong with it, but he needed to do something with his hands (and an excuse to wait for the man outside of the shop.)

 

The man appeared, not long after Peter. He looked surprised to see Peter waiting for him outside of the shop.

 

_ I wanted to say thank you. _

 

“Seeing Daryl -”

  
Derren.

 

“Denny in the middle of the aisle, having a mental break down after 20 minutes of running back and forth to collect everything off of your shopping list - and then some, after you added on more” he added with a wink, “was all the thanks I needed.”

 

Yeah… I feel kind of bad, I don’t even need half of this stuff. I made him get me a meal for two for me and my partner… I don’t even have a partner.

 

The man looked up. “You don’t?” he said, a little too hopeful. Peter was grateful not for the first time since meeting the man that he didn’t have super hearing, on top of telepathically. If he did, he would’ve heard his heart skip a beat. Unfortunately for him, however… he couldn’t skip the chain of thought that led to him asking the man out:

 

_ Maybe… you could help me out, and be the other half to my two person meal? And while you’re at it you could give me your name? _

 

“My last name or my first?” the man looked more surprised then Peter did after he said he. A beat of silence followed, before both men dissolved into laughter. The tension around then unfolded, and they eased into a comfortable moment of shared laughter; Peter’s was breathless; he was searching for his sound. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed, or even made a noise close to it.

 

“My names Wade.” 

 

Hello Wade, I’m Peter.

 

“Hello, Peter. Do you have a pen?” Peter reached into his back pocket, took out the pen he used to write down on and handed it to Wade, in return he brought Peter’s hand close to his chest. He turned Peter’s hand over and wrote on the back of it. His hands were bigger than Peter’s. He wondered if Wade’s hands were as worn as the leather gloves he had on.

 

“Here’s my number. Call me, maybe?”

 

_ Was that a Carl Rae Jepsen reference? _

 

“What can I say? I’m  _ All That _ .” 

 

_ No, stop - I regret everything. _

 

“Are you saying you’d rather have A Party For One?”

 

_ I’m leaving. Goodbye. _

 

Peter ran, shaking his head laughing as Wade called after him, “I promise you we’ll have a Good Time tonight!”

 

_ STOP! _

  
  



	2. Everyone has a past. Sometimes its best left alone.

  
To say that Peter was nervous was the understatement of the year.  He was nervous when Aunt May found out he was Spiderman - in hindsight, he should've thought of a better hiding spot for his costume other than the laundry basket.  He was nervous when Gwen asked him if he’s kissed anyone before, shortly followed up with her asking if he wanted to kiss her.  He was even more nervous when a year later he came out to her as gay, she laughed. "Was it meant to be a secret?" she said.  He was nervous on his first day of work at Stark’s tower, after being offered an internship by Tony Stark in person.  He was nervous on all of these occasions, and more that haven’t been mentioned for the sole reason of not wanting to fill the page…  this - this feeling, standing outside of Wade’s door wasn’t nervous.  It was worse.  He couldn’t stand still.  It was like his every single one of his molecules was vibrating, and any second now he’s sink through the floor, and he’d keep falling and falling and -

  
“Peter?”  Reality closed in around him.  Peter was staring at Wade’s chest, wondering how long he’s been standing there.  He wanted to say something, but then remembered that he had bought a dessert for afterwards - white chocolate cheesecake, with a raspberry filling that was almost lost to the tattered carpet, when Peter tried to do sign language at the same time as holding it.  Luckily for the both of them, Wade’s reflexes saved Peter from the humiliation of having to explain why he was licking cheesecake off of the floor - Aunt May had made it, and he would be damned if he let it go to waste.   
  
“Here, let me take that from you.”  Peter smiled, allowing Wade to take the box from his hands.  “Come on in!”  Peter raised his hand to his mouth and lowered it to his chin.  “You’re welcome.”  Wade backed into the door, pushing it open to let Peter through.   
  
“I’ll put this in the fridge.”  meanwhile, Peter looked around the apartment.  Calling it an apartment would be misleading.  It was a studio.  Everything was on one floor.  Nothing was hidden, or out of sight beside the bathroom.  In the corner of the studio, a Chinese wooden screen folded outwards, dividing the room into two.  Peter could still make out the corner of Wade’s bed.  A collection of comic books lined a built-in bookshelf on either side of two katanas, mounted on the wall and intercrossing each other above a flatscreen TV.  There were clothes hastily chucked into a pile on the floor and a faded couch with an old, tattered patched blanket thrown over the top.   
  
“So, what do you think?”  Peter looked towards Wade, who looked down at his feet.  A blush crept across his cheeks.  Was he embarrassed?  “I know it’s not much.  I didn’t have time to clean up, and-” Peter rested his hand on Wade’s arm.   
  
_It’s perfect,_ he thought.  But what he meant to say is it feels like home.

 

* * *

 

  
“And then I was like hey man, at least I don’t have mullet!”  He threw his head back, laughing.  Peter liked the sound of Wade’s laugher.  He liked looking at him laughing.  He would always hide his mouth with his hand.  He raised the corners of his mask to eat, and the whole time he had blocked it with a hand, or inside of his hoodie or a fork full of food.  “Is everything okay?”   
  
Why do you wear a mask?  The moment he asked it, he knew he’d come to regret it.  Wade fell silent.  Peter didn’t like the silence.  He had become comfortable with Wade filling in the silence, that now it unnerved him.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have asked.   
  
“No, you shouldn’t have.”  scratch that - Peter would take silence over Wade’s cold, detached tone.  Peter was familiar with the tone.  He’s heard it in his own voice - or had before he became mute.  His life was divided into two:  a before and an after.  Before, when the only loss her had known was of his parents, and after when he could count his loses on more than one hand.  It was unbearable, the guilt.  He couldn’t bring himself to say their names:  Richard.  Mary.  Benjamin.  May.  Each was a shard of glass he had to swallow, his throat caved in around it, and left his vocal cords sliced into ribbons, strands of names lost to silence;  their memories lived on in Peter’s mind, and there they stayed, unspoken for.   
  
Peter’s hand rested on Wade’s.  It’s okay, he thought.  We all have a past.  Wade’s eased into the touch, hesitant at first, and then suddenly all at once, like a trust fall that Peter didn’t know he was waiting for.  He moved in closer, ready to catch Wade’s side as it leaned in against him.   _Can we stay like this for a little while?_ __   
  
“Took the words right out of my mouth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The purpose of this chapter was mostly to motivate me to write, but also I wanted to give a bit of insight into Peter's past. We'll hear more about it later on in the story, as well as Wade's.


End file.
